


THE MANDALORE PLOT

by OminousPredictions



Series: KORKIE KRYZE, DUKE OF MANDALORE [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Death Watch (Star Wars), Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:15:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OminousPredictions/pseuds/OminousPredictions
Summary: Korkie Kryze has taken the throne of Mandalore after his aunt Satine is assassinated prior to the Clone Wars. He upholds her stance of neutrality in galactic conflict, but also maintains some of the older warrior aspects of Mandalorian culture, finding a pragmatic balance of pacifism and warrior heritage. Nevertheless, his rule is still opposed by the more fanatical members of his culture and the Republic questions Mandalore's allegiance. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent to investigate, but is struck by how strangely familiar Korkie seems to him. That and many other things cause him to wonder about the youth who rules Mandalore.First in a series.
Relationships: Korkie Kryze/Amis
Series: KORKIE KRYZE, DUKE OF MANDALORE [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089311
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	THE MANDALORE PLOT

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is essentially the Clone Wars but re-written with Korkie as the ruler of Mandalore as opposed to Satine. I'm guessing that some people will already know where I'm heading with this, but hope they enjoy it nonetheless. For those who love the Mandalorians from Legends, I must inform you that I have little knowledge of them and my use of Mando'a words might not be accurate.

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Obi-Wan felt considerable nervousness as his starfighter entered the atmosphere of Mandalore, for a reason he did not quite know why. He could sense no dark side presence on Mandalore, no plots or danger or darkness, but the Force was still oddly tumultuous for him here. But then it had been the same the last time he was here, only a young Padawan on a mission with his Master to protect the young ruler of the planet, Duchess Satine Kryze, as it became embroiled in a bloodthirsty civil war. War was typical of Mandalore, as the people were a warrior culture and strength of arms was highly prized. It had evolved from that into an ambitious war of conquest of the rest of the galaxy, descending on planets and slaughtering the populations and adding them to their empire. This had lasted until they ran into the Jedi, whose Force powers were something they had never seen before and were helpless against. They had adapted, of course, for they were clever and studious and industrious, and the end result had been a Jedi victory but at a very heavy cost to both sides. The Mandalorians had consistently failed to learn their lesson, however, and also been left with a virulent hatred of the Jedi, enough that when the Sith emerged and began their conquest many Mandalorians had thrown in with them, eager to kill as many Jedi as they could. Then there had been the internal conflicts, wars of power and interest between the various clans that made up the Mandalorian society as some of the more ambitious ones sought power and ideas greater than their current station. It had all culminated in one massive conflict that nearly saw the Mandalorian people wiped out, and been the final straw for the less militant ones, Duchess Satine being one of them. In a highly controversial move, she had championed an approach of pacifism and non-violence under the so-called New Mandalorian government, leading the movement herself. It had naturally been opposed by many of her people, but not enough to prevent it from being implemented and Mandalore had been afforded a chance to rebuild and heal from the turmoil. In the course of his mission to protect Satine, the two of them had wound up developing very strong feelings for each other, to the extent that Obi-Wan would have left the Jedi Order to be with her had she asked. But she had not and the two had parted ways, never to meet again until sixteen years ago where he had once again been assigned to protect her. That occasion had been………… intense, to say the least, and the last time he would ever see her. Three years ago Satine had been killed by an assassin, leaving her young nephew to take the throne at the tender age of thirteen. 

By all accounts this nephew, Korkie, was very much like his aunt in terms of politics and personality, remaining committed to the ideals of peace and non-violence. When the Clone Wars had broken out, he had committed Mandalore and its surrounding systems to a neutral stance, eventually becoming the leader of the Council of Neutral Systems, an outlier wing of what was deemed the Pacifist Faction of the Republic Senate. They wanted to avoid direct involvement in the war as much as possible and committed themselves to seeking peaceful resolutions with both sides. However, there had been frequent and troubling rumours that Duke Korkie was in fact secretly planning to commit his planet and the 1,500 other worlds that formed the Council of Neutral Systems to the Separatist cause, which was naturally a cause for great concern to the Senate and the Jedi Council. For that reason, as well as his history with Mandalore and the Kryze clan, Obi-Wan had been sent to investigate the truth of these claims. It should have been a textbook errand, one he’d done a thousand times before, yet he was troubled. The Force was warning him of something major awaiting discovery on Mandalore, but what? He pondered this as he brought his Delta-7B in for a landing at the spaceport of Sundari, Mandalore’s capital city. Since much of the planet had been rendered an inhospitable desert by the countless wars of the past, most of the cities were enclosed in protective bio-domes that allowed life to persist and flourish on the otherwise dead planet. As Obi-Wan disembarked, he was approached by a man in very ornate armour that he recognised as the traditional ceremonial garb of the Mandalorian Protectors, who served as guards for the incumbent ruler of Mandalore.

“His Grace awaits you, General Kenobi.”, the man said politely, bowing his head.

“Far be it from me to keep him from waiting, then.”, Obi-Wan replied.

The guardsman led him over to a waiting hover-taxi and soon they were speeding through the city itself, which was busy with pedestrians and airspeeders going about their business. Obi-Wan was able to appreciate the view, especially the sight of newly planted gardens, parks and allotments, all artistically tended in the Mandalorian cubism style. Arriving at the palace, he was led into a spacious room known as the Grand Salon, whose floor-to-ceiling windows provided plenty of natural illumination. An ornate throne stood against the opposite wall, unoccupied at the moment, but Obi-Wan’s attention was drawn to the portrait hanging on the wall to his right. It was of the late Duchess Satine, in a rather abstract style that was admittedly bizarre, but still captured her regal air. Obi-Wan stared at it, remembering his lost love and wondering what might have been, until he heard footsteps behind him.

“Ah, General Kenobi.”

The voice was deep and plummy, and belonged to a dignified-looking man in his fifties. His clothes and hair were cut and styled in the cubism way, identifying him as a government official, and his eyes were a striking violet colour.

“Prime Minister Almec.”, he said, striding over to meet the man. “I thank you for meeting with me.”

“Likewise.”, Almec replied, shaking his outstretched hand. “I welcome you as a servant of the people, but truthfully I am troubled by the false rumours that brought you here. I can assure you that Mandalore would never turn against the Republic. Duke Korkie values honour, integrity and peace more than his own life.”

“If he is anything like his aunt, I have no doubt of that.”, Obi-Wan replied. “However-”

“Master Kenobi, Mandalore’s violent past is behind us.”, Almec interrupted firmly. “The most virulent warriors were exiled to our moon of Concordia and have long since died out.”

“Are you certain of that?”, Obi-Wan asked. “I recently encountered a man who wore Mandalorian armour and was himself a skilled warrior. Jango Fett.”

Almec let out a disdainful snort.

“Jango Fett was nothing more than a common bounty hunter!”, he spluttered. “How he acquired that armour is beyond me!”

“We were unable to scan his chain code as his body and armour vanished during the battle where he died, but a blood scan of his pure DNA on Kamino listed his home as Concord Dawn.”, Obi-Wan replied. “And a survey of that planet’s records had him listed as a commando during the Mandalorian Civil Wars, under Jaster Mereel.”

Almec looked rather indignant, but the reply to that statement did not come from him.

“You are well-informed on many matters, it seems, but perhaps not on others.”

Obi-Wan turned to see a group of people entering the throne room from a side entrance. At their head was a young man, not much more than a boy, of sixteen. He was wearing flowing dark blue garments, a coat that fanned out at the back with rounded points that had dark pink spots on them, and his red hair was immaculately styled and topped with a small circlet of sapphires. The whole thing reminded Obi-Wan of a particularly ostentatious bird he’d seen on Naboo, called a peacock, and to a casual or unenlightened mind it might show that Korkie was a silly and vain boy more concerned with his appearance than meaningful ruling. However, Obi-Wan knew better; the ostentatious garments were meant to distract observers from the youth of the wearer, or lure them into underestimating him and thus making a slip-up that betrayed their true feelings. The Naboo queens had made use of such methods, and very effective they had been. He glanced at the other members of the group; aside from more guardsmen, there were two males, one around Korkie’s age and another somewhat older, who wore a hooded cape common among nobles on Kalevala, another world in Mandalorian space. 

“So, Obi-Wan Kenobi comes running to the rescue of Mandalore’s ruler once again.”, the red-headed teen remarked.

Despite his youth his voice was calm, measured and oozed authority and he moved with a grace and dignity befitting someone much older, a wisdom reflected in his eyes. This was a boy who had perhaps been forced to grow up very quickly. Duke Korkie, for it could only be him, sat himself on the throne with quiet dignity, straight-backed and poised, whilst his guards and probable advisors took up flanking positions around him.

“So it seems, your Grace.”, Obi-Wan replied. “You wear your office as well as your late aunt. My condolences for her loss.”

“Accepted most graciously, Master Kenobi.”, Korkie replied. “She spoke fondly and often of you.”

“I’m……… glad to hear that.”, Obi-Wan said.

“You are interminably polite, Master Kenobi.”, Korkie replied. “However, please do not think me rude if I could request we dispense with the pleasantries and get right down to business.”

Obi-Wan was briefly taken aback by the bluntness, but smiled.

“As you wish, your Grace.”, he said. “To be honest, I despise small talk as well.”

“As do I.”, Korkie replied. “If you are here to accuse me of treason to the Republic, speak and be done with it.”

“I am not accusing or suspecting you of any personal wrongdoing, your Grace.”, Obi-Wan said. “However, one of our Republic cruisers was recently attacked by a saboteur……….. clad in beskar armour.”

He held up a holoprojector and played it. A blue-scanned image of an armoured man, wielding a blaster rifle and clearly in the midst of mortal combat, flared into existence. Korkie stiffened as he watched, taking in the use of a jetpack-mounted missile and the very distinctive T-shaped visor of the helmet, unmistakably Mandalorian. Almec let out a snort.

“You must be mistaken.”, he said. “No Mandalorian would engage in such violence, not anymore. Where is this prisoner now?”

“Unfortunately he took his own life before we could ask him anything.”, Obi-Wan replied darkly. “I know these commandos fought in many wars, often against the Jedi, and memories, scars and grudges can run deep.”

Korkie’s jaw tightened and the young man at his side bristled.

“Just what are you accusing us of?”, he asked.

He was more solidly built than Korkie, and kept his dark blond hair shaved in a mohawk style. Obi-Wan wondered what his relationship to Korkie was; a sibling or cousin, perhaps?

“Naak, Amis.”, Korkie said, the Mando’a word for peace rolling easily off his tongue. “Master Kenobi just wants to get to the bottom of this situation. I can assure you that whoever this agitator was, he had no affiliations with us.”

“As may be.”, Obi-Wan replied. “However, the Senate and the Jedi Council are naturally anxious at the idea of Mandalorian warriors joining the droid ranks, and Mandalore’s distance from Republic politics has caused more than a few to suspect double-dealing.”

“Slander and nonsense!”, Korkie exclaimed, temper flaring slightly.

The hooded man now joined in the conversation.

“I know we may sound defensive, Master Kenobi, but not refuting such baseless allegations would only cause more suspicion.”

Korkie inclined his head towards the hooded man.

“This is Prince Tal Merrick.”, he said to Obi-Wan. “He serves my Aunt Satine’s homeworld of Kalevala as their Senator.”

“Your words are true indeed, Senator.”, Obi-Wan replied graciously. “However-”

“I am starting to suspect that you were sent here because the Senate is eager to interfere in our affairs.”, Korkie interrupted, fixing Obi-Wan with a stare as challenging as his words.

“My investigation,”, Obi-Wan replied, matching that stare. “, was ordered by the Jedi Council, not the Senate.”

Korkie seemed to deflate a bit, caught off-guard, but he quickly rallied and actually smiled.

“I stand corrected, it seems.”, he remarked. “Forgive my moment of unwarranted hostility.”

“Perfectly understandable, your Grace.”, Obi-Wan replied. 

“Perhaps we should resume this discussion under less formal circumstances.”, Korkie said. “Would you care to accompany me on a stroll through the city? So you can personally experience Mandalore’s prosperity and commitment to peace. And perhaps we can improve our personal relations.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.”, Obi-Wan replied.

Korkie elected to take only a quartet of guards with him, but Amis remained by his side. The two seemed quite close, Obi-Wan noted as he shook hands with the lad.

“You’re the first Jedi I’ve met.”, Amis remarked, giving him a once-over. 

“Hopefully I’ve made a good impression, then.”, Obi-Wan replied.

“Decent, but there’s room for improvement.”, Amis told him bluntly.

“I see.”, Obi-Wan replied. “May I ask, what is your function in the Duke’s entourage?”

But it was Korkie who answered, coming over from where he had dismissed Almec, Merrick and the remaining guards.

“Amis is part of my advisor and bodyguard detachment.”, he said. “I trust him with my life.”

“I see.”, Obi-Wan replied. “But he’s a bit more than that to you, isn’t he?”

Both of them jerked in surprise, Amis tensing as though for a fight, but Korkie laid a hand on his arm and he relaxed.

“Nothing gets by you, does it?”, he remarked with a smile. “Yes, Amis is my consort, my riduur.”

Amis smiled at the use of the Mando’a word.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”, he said.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”, Korkie replied.

They touched their foreheads to each other’s briefly, then separated. Obi-Wan smiled fondly; the bond between the two was clearly strong and deep. 

“Well, that explains it.”, he said. “As a Jedi, love is forbidden to me, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t happy to see it expressed by others.”

As they walked to the speeders waiting to take them into the city, Obi-Wan asked Amis what clan he belonged to.

“Clan Saxon.”, he replied. “My full name is Amis Saxon. My uncle serves as the Captain of the Mandalorian Police Force.”

Amis was a thoughtful, clever and focused young man, with a particular aptitude for reading people and assessing their thoughts, wants, desires, strengths and weaknesses. He was also a skilled fighter despite his young age, but that itself was useful since any enemies would probably dismiss him as a threat. Another holdover from Naboo, Obi-Wan presumed, remembering how each of Padme’s handmaidens had proved themselves more than capable in combat despite their youth and seeming harmlessness. They soon reached one of the more popular recreation spots in the capital, Peace Park, one of several such developments installed by Satine in memory of the wars that almost destroyed Mandalore. Citizens strolled in pairs or larger groups, talking in various languages, but all of them paused to bow respectfully to Korkie, who answered each with a gracious smile and nod. Obi-Wan noted that many citizens were armed in some way, most with melee weapons but others carried blasters, and mentioned as such to Korkie.

“When I took the throne, I aimed to strike a pragmatic balance between the warrior ways of the past and my aunt’s pacifist ways.”, he replied. “She had good intentions, but perhaps took her beliefs too far to the other extreme. Mandalorians are fighters at our core, no changing that, and there were a great many who were uncomfortable with abandoning all that at once. And how can we forge a future by forgetting our past?”

“Understandable.”, Obi-Wan said. “To ask a culture to surrender such a vital part of their heritage so suddenly is………… difficult, to say the least. I know I said as much to Satine at our last meeting, but she was………… very stubborn. It was very-”

“Mandalorian of her?”, Korkie inquired with a smirk.

“Indeed.”, Obi-Wan replied. “But what policies of hers did you change?”

“I maintained our stances of neutrality and pacifism, but made them more flexible.”, Korkie replied. “Everyone is trained in combat, for one.”

“Isn’t that a bit counter to the whole idea of pacifism?”, Obi-Wan asked.

“Not as much as you’d think.”, Korkie replied. “I was inspired by the Naboo, who were peaceful and hated violence and yet packed military-grade starfighters just on the off-chance a droid invasion happened. I desired to make us retain our warrior ways, but dispense with the ‘fighting for the sake of fighting’ mentality that had consumed and nearly destroyed us.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look of surprise and admiration. Despite his young age, Korkie was a very astute person. 

“I kept the warrior aspect, but diluted it as opposed to getting rid of it entirely.”, Korkie went on. “All Mandalorians are combat-trained from the age of ten, because whilst I remain committed to peace I am not a fool. Peace is more of a temporary state, a confusion between two wars, if you will. War and conflict and danger are inevitable, as this current one proves, and it’s best to know how to fight and never have to than to not know and be caught unawares. There is a dangerous galaxy out there and relying on a belief that people won’t attack you because you’re a pacifist is not a viable option. There are many criminal sorts who would see us as painting a target because we won’t use violence, so I adopted a new approach. We will not start fights, but if anyone is foolish enough to pick a fight with us we’ll quickly show them the error of their ways.”

“Fighting as a last resort as opposed to not fighting at all.”, Obi-Wan remarked. “Sounds very much like a Jedi way of thinking.”

“It is.”, Korkie replied. “We Mandalorians learn and adapt, after all, and I studied the Jedi Order extensively as inspiration as well. You are excellent fighters even if you’re not soldiers, and few in the galaxy can match you. And even ancient enemies have good ideas if you’re willing to open your mind.”

“Very clever, your Grace.”, Obi-Wan replied. “Very clever indeed. And has this approach been effective?”

Korkie looked hesitant before he replied.

“For the most part.”, he said. “Most of the opposition came back when I made it clear I was not continuing the same policies as my aunt in dismantling our warrior infrastructure. They were concerned about losing our identity as warriors and grateful that I wasn’t doing that, so they came back.”

“But not all of them?”, Obi-Wan said, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“No.”, Korkie replied with a heavy sigh. “A small splinter group called Death Watch refused to accept anything other than the ‘old ways’, the days of the Mandalorian crusaders where we sacked worlds and butchered innocents and mounted the heads of Jedi on spikes. In short, devolve from honourable warriors to bloodthirsty, marauding savages who engage in war purely for the sake of it. I did my best to reach out to them, to convince them to see the bigger picture in that such an approach wouldn’t be viable or sustainable for our people in the long run, but they spurned all offers of conciliation and went into exile on Concordia, our moon.”

“Hm, I see.”, Obi-Wan said. “So this Death Watch is the most likely candidate for the attack on our cruiser?”

“Possibly, but don’t set anything in stone for your senate just yet.”, Korkie replied. “It could just be a rogue bounty hunter hired by the Separatists who has a set of stolen armour.”

They were now approaching the centrepiece of Peace Park, the Memorial Shrine. Carved from white stone that shone and glimmered brightly in the sunlight, it had been created to remember all those who perished in the Mandalorian Civil Wars. Obi-Wan gave it a glance before turning his attention back to Korkie.

“If Death Watch are responsible for the attack on our cruiser, this could mean they’ve joined with the Separatists.”, he said. “And if they have, the Senate could use it as a pretext to occupy Mandalore and its systems.”

“I know.”, Korkie replied. “Which is why I have had people investigating them. As I said I am not a fool, and I had no intention of letting a tribe of bloodthirsty war-hawks live in my system without keeping an eye on them.”

“Have you found any evidence so far of Separatist involvement?”, Obi-Wan asked. 

“Nothing conclusive, as of yet.”, Korkie replied. “So far the investigation has stalled, somewhat. I’m planning to make a visit to Concordia to see the reports for myself.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”, Obi-Wan asked, feeling deep concern for the boy for some reason. “They might use that as an opportunity to kidnap or harm you.”

“I thank you for your concern, Master Kenobi, but they do still abide by the warrior codes.”, Korkie replied. “Killing children and young ones is forbidden, even if I am technically the Mand’alor. They would not dare break those codes.”

KA-BOOM!!!!!!!

The peaceful atmosphere of the park was shattered by an explosion at the base of the Memorial Shrine, scattering fragments of charred white stone in all directions. The shockwave also knocked those closest off their feet and a few were actually thrown for several metres, at least one of whom did not get up upon landing. Screams and cries of terror, agony and confusion rent the air, followed moments later by the wailing of emergency sirens. Korkie, who had been thrown to the ground and covered by Amis and his guards almost instantly, pushed his way back to his feet, face white with shock.

“Are you all right, cyar’ika?”, Amis asked, looking terrified.

“I’m fine.”, Korkie replied, voice shaking only for a second before he stood upright and ran straight into the devastation, Amis, Obi-Wan and his guards hot on his heels. The shrine was missing part of its base and a large chunk had been blasted out of the centre, whilst injured and shaken civilians lay on the ground around it. Korkie knelt by the side of one large man who was nursing a broken arm.

“D-Duke Kryze!”, the man gasped. 

“Don’t speak, just lie still.”, Korkie said soothingly.

Emergency personnel were beginning to pour into the park; police officers aided the royal guards in securing the area whilst medical personnel began tending to the injured. Obi-Wan, his eyes scanning the crowd, knelt down next to Korkie.

“Perhaps Death Watch’s quiet period was quiet for a reason.”, he said.

“This attack cannot be them.”, Korkie half-whispered. “They are ruthless, yes, but they still possess honour. There is no honour in this.”

“Then what’s that?”, Obi-Wan asked, pointing.

Korkie looked and his heart stopped. A hologram, orange in colour, had flared into existence at the base of the shattered shrine, showing a symbol of what looked like a stylised soaring bird.

“Jai’galaar.”, he said under his breath. 

“What’s that?”, Obi-Wan asked.

“The shriek-hawk.”, Amis said, fire in his eyes as he stared at the hologram. “A predatory bird native to Mandalore, and the symbol adopted by the Death Watch.”

He looked around at the scene of destruction and injured or dying people and a snarl of rage marred his features.

“Only a hut’uun, a coward, would do this.”, he said angrily. “They’ll pay for this!”

“This goes far beyond a simple protest.”, Obi-Wan said. “This is a political statement against your government, and against you.”

He was saying this to Korkie, who had gotten to his feet as the man he’d been tending to was taken over by a medic, and was now looking torn between despair and rage.

“You’re not safe here.”, Obi-Wan went on. “Amis, would you please take him back to the palace?”

“Like you need to ask me.”, Amis replied, though not in a rude fashion.

Obi-Wan nodded before turning to the crowd that had gathered, many of whom had their weapons drawn and were looking around for any sign of danger or hostiles.

“I want to interview everyone here.”, he called. “No-one leaves this scene!”

“Hey! You! Where are you going?”, called a voice. “The Jedi said to stay here!”

There was a shot and a shout of pain, followed by more screams and cries. Obi-Wan, whirling in that direction, saw a man fall to the ground clutching a smoking blaster injury and a second man running away.

“You there! Halt!”, he shouted, already in hot pursuit.

The suspect was fast, but clearly not familiar with the local geography as he ended up running onto a balcony overlooking a main square, with the only exit now blocked by Obi-Wan.

“I only want to talk!”, he said, holding out one hand in a placatory manner.

But the guy clearly wasn’t interested in talking, as he whipped out a blaster and began firing at Obi-Wan, heedless of the civilians present on the balcony who shrieked and ducked down. Obi-Wan dodged the first few shots and his lightsaber sang as it deflected the other ones, finally sending one back that knocked the blaster from the assailant’s hand. Not willing to concede, the man charged right at Obi-Wan, who was so stunned at the man’s audacity in charging a Jedi Master that he didn’t react in time. Before the man reached him, however, a big Mandalorian male shoulder-barged him from the side, joined quickly by a pair of women who joined him in pinning the man to the ground and a second man who got him in an armlock. By the time Korkie, Amis and some guards got there, the suspect was well in hand.

“Your policy of combat training for all citizens has really paid off.”, Obi-Wan remarked.

“Thank you.”, Korkie said graciously, before turning his gaze on the suspected bomber. “Who are you?”

The man did not speak, only glaring defiantly, then managed to move his head enough to spit contemptuously at Korkie’s feet. The disgusting gesture was met with low growls of anger from the surrounding witnesses, but Korkie showed no reaction other than a glare of cold anger.

“Let him up.”, he said. “We’ll take him back to the palace and put him in a cell until he’s ready to talk.”

The citizens keeping the man pinned obliged, though kept their weapons ready in case he made a move, and one of the guards came forward with a set of handcuffs. The suspect’s eyes took them in, then moved over to Obi-Wan who was still holding his lightsaber. Just as the guard was about to cuff him, the man leapt suddenly at Obi-Wan.

“Calhava bru’chun dralshye’ran!”, he said.

“Look out!”, Korkie cried.

But too late; the blue plasma blade entered the man’s stomach and pierced out of his back as his momentum carried him forward to slump against a shocked Obi-Wan, whose lightsaber fell from his slackening fingers. Fatally wounded, the man fell to the ground as they gathered around, one calling for a medic even though it was already too late. Korkie knelt over him, anger replaced with sadness that the man had taken such a drastic action.

“Se solu, se cad, se darasuum kote.”, the dying man said. “Kadi, se norm’iim.”

“Ki, kadi norm’iim.”, Korkie replied. 

What looked like regret flashed briefly in the bomber’s eyes before they rolled up into his head and he went limp, dead and gone. A few people sighed and one or two muttered some last rites; there was no sense in hating the dead. Korkie remained where he was for a moment, kneeling by the dead man’s side, before turning his attention to the shaken Obi-Wan.

“Before we discuss anything further,”, he said. “, his death was not your fault. He threw himself on the blade, you didn’t drive it into him.”

“I suppose you’re right.”, Obi-Wan replied, voice more or less level. “Though, I will need some time to realise and accept that. But on another note, what did he say to you?”

“He was using a dialect spoken on Concordia.”, Korkie replied, not quite answering the question. “I learned to speak it myself when I was ten and I’d know it anywhere.”

“This moon of yours does seem central to this situation.”, Obi-Wan remarked. “I should be interested in paying it a visit. Perhaps I could accompany the body.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”, Korkie replied. “Concordia is a province with its own governor. As such, I will have to accompany you.”

Amis made a noise of protest.

“Don’t argue with me, riduur.”, Korkie said. “He’ll make no progress without me, and since he’s also involved in the death of a Concordian-”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.”, Obi-Wan interjected.

“I know.”, Korkie replied firmly. “But they don’t.”

======================================================================================================

A small Aka’jor-class shuttle had been prepared for the journey to Concordia, one of many such ships used for transport between the main planet and its lunar province. The body of the bomber had been placed in a burial pod and loaded onboard, with a token delegation composed of Korkie, Obi-Wan and a couple of Mandalorian Guards. Amis had stayed behind, at great protest, to oversee the clear-up of the bombing and strengthening of the planet’s security forces in case there were more Death Watch terrorists lurking about. Korkie seemed to have recovered from the shock of the bombing, giving no outward sign of shock or trauma. He had changed from his regal peacock robes into something more functional; a more ornate version of the Protector’s armour, incorporating a short kama or battle-skirt and sleeves cut wide enough to allow freedom of movement without looking sloppy. But most prominent was the sword at his waist, contained in a scabbard, along with a dagger hanging from his belt. But though it was ceremonial, he looked ready and willing to fight at a moment’s notice. 

“I thought Concordia was an agricultural settlement.”, Obi-Wan remarked as they entered the moon’s atmosphere.

“It is now.”, Korkie replied. “It was strip-mined for beskar during the wars to the extent that the forests were almost completely wiped out. Only now are they really recovering. We’re hoping to use that new terraforming to affect the same thing on Mandalore.”

“I wish you luck in that regard.”, Obi-Wan said. 

“I doubt that we will ever fully restore Mandalore’s pristine ecology, but a partial one would be enough.”, Korkie replied. “Although I doubt it will happen in my lifetime.”

They flew over farmlands and forests, which indeed showed signs of being recent growths, and came to a large, gleaming city built onto the side of a mountain range. Touching down in the hangar, they disembarked and were met by a man wearing the emblem of the Concordian civil government.

“Ah, Duke Kryze.”, he said pleasantly. “Be welcome to Concordia.”

“Thank you, Governor Vizsla.”, Korkie replied graciously. “I wish it were under less unpleasant circumstances, however.”

Obi-Wan stepped forwards and was surprised to detect a trace of hostility and dislike from the governor for a second.

“This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”, Korkie said. “Master Kenobi, this is Pre Vizsla, Governor of Concordia and one of the officials looking into the Death Watch situation.”

Obi-Wan gave the man a courteous nod, but Vizsla’s attention was caught by the funeral pod containing the dead bomber.

“This is the man who bombed the Memorial Shrine?”, he asked.

“Yes.”, Obi-Wan replied. “He was apparently part of Death Watch.”

“A most worrisome prospect indeed.”, Vizsla remarked. “How did he die, if I may ask?”

“He threw himself on my lightsaber, rather than let himself be captured.”, Obi-Wan replied. “I was certainly not intending to kill him, but it seems he preferred death over arrest.”

“I……….. see.”, Vizsla replied, though with an edge to his voice. “Perhaps Duke Korkie would be more suited to explaining this to me and the dead man’s family. Relations between Mandalore and the Jedi have traditionally been……… tense and your presence might cause unnecessary inflammation.”

“Of course, Governor Vizsla.”, Obi-Wan said. “If you feel that is best.”

Vizsla and his guards made off with the body, but Obi-Wan stopped Korkie from joining them.

“What is it?”, he asked.

“Would you mind keeping Governor Vizsla occupied for a while?”, Obi-Wan asked. “I’d like to have a look around, perhaps starting with one of the old mining facilities.”

“To determine if they’re still operational?”, Korkie inquired.

“Quite the opposite, in fact.”, Obi-Wan replied.

He took an earpiece and spare comlink from his utility belt and gave them to Korkie.

“Here.”, he said. “Take these so we can keep in touch. Better safe than sorry, after all.”

“Recall that you are here under my protection.”, Korkie replied, putting in the earpiece. “Please try not to cause problems where none yet exist.”

Obi-Wan chuckled as he started up one of the nearby speeder bikes.

“I shall do nothing of the sort.”, he said.

“You should know, I do not condone or approve of any of this.”, Korkie tried again.

“You’re Satine’s family.”, Obi-Wan replied. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

And he was off, leaving behind a very bemused Korkie.

“And she said he was more reckless and daring than this.”, he remarked to himself. “Oh, joy.”

Whilst Korkie pondered over the enigma that was Obi-Wan, the Jedi Master himself sped off to the east along a well-established path until he came to the source of a large energy reading he’d been scanning for a while. A large door, probably to a mine, was set into the rock and he managed to get it open without much fuss. Inside he found a very extensive and well-established ore-processing facility for beskar, the notoriously resilient alloy from which all Mandalorian armour was constructed. 

“Doesn’t look abandoned to me.”, he remarked to himself. “Someone’s clearly been busy here.”

He explored further and came across a rack of jetpacks and helmets, all newly forged by the looks of things. He picked up one of the helmets and examined it, noting the distinctive T-shaped visor………….. and the sudden movement behind him that was reflected in it! He turned in time to see a man, clad in full armour, burst out of the shadows and charge him with an angry grunt. Obi-Wan leapt up and over him, but the warrior had vanished by the time he turned to face him. Igniting his lightsaber, he held it up as he looked around warily for more attackers.

“I am here on a diplomatic mission, under the protection of Duke Korkie Kryze of Mandalore.”, he announced in a carrying voice to the room at large.

“We do not recognise that brat’s claim!”, growled a low voice. 

Another sudden attack from the shadows, but this time Obi-Wan was ready for it and cut the man’s blaster in half as he raised it to fire. Before he could do anything else, however, a shot from higher up knocked his lightsaber from his grasp and the first warrior pounced on him. Obi-Wan was able to send him reeling with some strong punches, but the second warrior now joined the fight and his armoured fist slammed into Obi-Wan’s chin, causing him to reel, before following up with a kick that sent the Jedi Master sprawling. Before he could rally, both were on him.

======================================================================================================

Korkie wandered into Governor Vizlsa’s salon, where he found the governor himself typing something on a datapad. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment, your Grace.”, he said. “I’m just notifying the dead man’s family, and making arrangements for them to retrieve his body.”

“Of course, Governor.”, Korkie replied. “Very proper.”

He walked over to a mural that took up most of the wall it was painted on, depicting ancient Mandalorian crusaders fighting Jedi. He sighed; the past was painful and shameful to face, yet to deny it would only weaken them. And the Jedi had only been enemies because their own code of honour refused to allow them to stand aside and let innocent beings be massacred in the name of supposed glory. Indeed, his studies of the Order had led him to reflect that Mandalorians and Jedi had quite a bit in common, probably more than either would be willing to admit; both recruited young children into their ranks to be raised as the next generation, both made use of highly distinctive equipment and both were bound by strict codes of honour, loyalty and diligence. The voice of Governor Vizsla cut his ruminations short.

“There. That takes care of that.”, Vizsla said. “Would you care to join me for a drink, your Grace?”

“Only if you have something non-alcoholic.”, Korkie replied. “Tarine tea, perhaps.”

“At your pleasure.”, Vizsla said. “I shall have some brought here immediately.”  
Korkie took a seat at the table, idly sipping his drink when it arrived.

“Is General Kenobi not joining us?”, Vizsla asked. 

“No, Governor.”, Korkie replied. “He said he needed to meditate, so he went out into the forest in search of some peace and quiet.”

“I see.”, Vizsla said. “Well, dinner will be ready soon so if he’s not back by then, I would send someone out to let him know.”

“Of course.”, Korkie replied.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks.

“You seem a bit unsettled, Duke Korkie.”, Vizsla said suddenly. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Just…………. the shrine bombing.”, Korkie replied. “And what it represents.”

“Oh?”, Vizsla said.

“My aunt’s policies were controversial, I will admit, no matter how well-meaning.”, Korkie went on. “However, I’ve not upheld them as strictly and have more or less restored us to our post-crusader status, where everyone knew how to fight even if they never planned to. Why is that not good enough for everyone?”

“Heh, you still have quite a bit to learn about people.”, Vizsla remarked. “Nobody will ever have everyone agreeing with them. There will always be those who oppose you on little more than principle.”

“True, but the desire to reignite the crusades of old isn’t exactly my idea of a stellar example of long-term thinking.”, Korkie replied. “Why would anyone desire to go back to that?”

“You must think of it from their point of view, your Grace.”, Vizsla replied. “To them, that was an era of greatness for Mandalore. We were powerful, controlling vast swathes of the galaxy, and known and feared throughout it. Even Jedi Masters were afraid of us.”

Korkie gave him a strange look, for Vizsla had become rather animated and intense whilst saying that last part.

“Yes, and then we were crushed by the combined forces of the Jedi, the Republic and the forces of those who had escaped our conquests or feared they were next.”, he said. “It was a crushing conflict that Mandalore, and Mandalorians as a whole, barely survived and took generations to recover from, as well as leaving the galaxy with much fear, hatred and disgust for us. For all our bravery, skill and power in battle as warriors, the fact remains that we would forever be too small to truly conquer the galaxy and trying to do so again would only lead them to not only band together to crush us, but utterly destroy us so we really cannot try again. I can see this as clear as day. Why can Death Watch not?”

“Who knows?”, Vizsla replied, slightly ominously. “But perhaps they think they can because they won’t be alone? Because they have powerful allies who want the same thing as them?”

“What?”, Korkie asked. “The Separatists?”

“Perhaps.”, Vizsla replied, taking a lazy sip of his drink. “The Separatists have great numbers on their side, and a very prolific killer of Jedi leading their ranks.”

“They are also devoid of honour, of mercy, of moral restraint and integrity.”, Korkie countered. “Look at the atrocities they have committed, even worse than some of our own historical ones.”

“So you believe the Republic to be better?”, Vizsla asked. “A once-great democracy now overrun with corruption, hamstrung by a bloated and inefficient bureaucracy and barely held together by a weakened Jedi Order?”

“A shade of grey as opposed to black.”, Korkie replied.

“Or perhaps a lighter shade of black.”, Vizsla countered.

“Perhaps.”, Korkie conceded. “But as corrupt and ineffective as the Republic is, at it's heart it still possesses those with morals and integrity.”

Vizsla opened his mouth as though to argue, but then closed it.

“You are indeed very much like your aunt.”, he said. “But believe me when I say that not everyone would mean that as a compliment.”

“In politics, things rarely have just one meaning.”, Korkie replied.

As he said this, his earpiece began to chirp.

“Korkie, come in.”, Obi-Wan’s voice said. “Can you hear me?”

“Can I refill your drink?”, Vizsla asked.

“Yes. Certainly.”, Korkie replied, scratching his ear to reply to Obi-Wan.

“I’m in a bit of an awkward spot and could use some assistance.”, Obi-Wan replied.

“Sorry, your Grace. We’re out of ice.”, Vizsla reported.

“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.”, Korkie replied.

“There’s a tracking function on your comlink.”, Obi-Wan continued. “Follow it due east to my location. And use a speeder, it’s rough terrain.”

Korkie got to his feet.

“Is something wrong, your Grace?”, Vizsla asked.

“I was just going to fetch Master Kenobi.”, Korkie replied. “Or at least let him know dinner will be ready soon.”

“I see. Would you like me to accompany you?”, Vizsla asked.

“No need to trouble yourself, Governor. I’ll find my way easily enough.”, Korkie replied.

The moment he was outside the office and out of hearing range, however, he ran to the hangar and jumped onto one of the speeder bikes, following the tracking function as indicated to the mine entrance, where he slipped in and crept carefully along until he reached the main chamber. To his shock, he saw Obi-Wan suspended in an orange force-field on the conveyor belt. Two Death Watch soldiers were also in the room, manning a control panel.

“Time for the Jedi to meet with his ‘fatal accident.”, one of them said with a nasty chuckle.

“With pleasure.”, the other one replied. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll bring more Jedi to Mandalore.”

“Why would that be lucky?”, the first warrior asked.

“Because it means more Jedi to kill.”, the second one replied.

Korkie gritted his teeth before retreating back down the passageway to the entrance. Once there, he triggered an alarm system and slipped past the pair as they came to investigate it. Obi-Wan was halfway along the conveyor belt, which led to a pair of large hydraulic crushers that crushed the rock and ore into smaller chunks that then passed through a grinder. Given the capacity it had for reducing beskar-infused rock to broken bits, Obi-Wan wasn’t particularly keen on experiencing what it would do to a squishy human body, namely his.

“Well, you certainly took your sweet time!”, he exclaimed as he saw Korkie running towards the control panel.

“Perhaps you should wait until I’ve actually saved you to make criticisms.”, Korkie shot back.

“Why wait when I’m five seconds away from being pulped and ground up?”, Obi-Wan retorted.

“Just hang in there for now.”, Korkie replied. “And not ONE smart-aleck remark out of you for that unfortunate pun!”

Korkie’s hands fluttered anxiously over the controls, trying to figure out which one was the right mechanism, whilst Obi-Wan watched as he inched inexorably closer to the compactor.

“Korkie! This is not the time to be fooling around!”, he said, a note of urgency in his tone that bordered on panic. “Turn it off!”

“I’m trying!”, Korkie snapped back.

Obi-Wan braced himself, but no mechanical compacting arms brutally crushed him as Korkie hit the right switch in the nick of time, though it was still carrying him towards the grinder. And then another problem arose in the form of the two returning warriors, who spotted Korkie instantly.

“Look out!”, Obi-Wan cried.

There was no time for Korkie to draw either of his weapons, but the impressive kick he landed in the first one’s gut showed he was far from defenceless. As both warriors ganged up on him, however, he realised he might need help and kicked a nearby barrel into the grinder, jamming the gears just as the force-field keeping Obi-Wan contained winked out. Using the barrel, however, Obi-Wan was able to leap safely out and flew right at the Death Watch soldiers. A few seconds later and both of them were out cold and slammed against the wall, as well as pinned beneath a large container for good measure. Korkie gave the older Jedi a somewhat disapproving look as they both stepped into a nearby turbolift.

“You know, for a man sworn to peace you do seem to take an unseemly pleasure in the injury of others.”, he said.

“And for one so concerned with keeping people safe, you don’t seem bothered by the fact that I almost died back there.”, Obi-Wan replied.

“But you didn’t. Not that I’ve heard any thanks for it.”, Korkie said.

“Hmph. You really are very much like your aunt.”, Obi-Wan replied.

Korkie looked like he wanted to say something, but the lift doors opened right then and they found themselves facing an equally startled Death Watch soldier. Obi-Wan recovered first and knocked the man senseless with a pair of well-placed punches to his helmet.

“I think we took the wrong exit.”, he remarked.

He began insistently pressing the button for the lift doors to close so it could go back down, but more warriors had spotted them and began firing on their position. Korkie and Obi-Wan ducked out of the lift as a shot hit its support cables, sending it plummeting back down the shaft. Yellow laser bolts forced them into cover behind a large rock.

“We’ll have to stand and fight, it seems.”, Obi-Wan remarked. “Or in your case, just stand.”

Korkie’s offended glare quickly transformed itself into a gloating smirk when Obi-Wan’s hand went to his belt………….. where his lightsaber wasn’t, as the warriors who captured him earlier had also pilfered it and carted it off to their leader, probably as a trophy.

“Oh. Um…………..”, Obi-Wan said with an awkward grin.

“I know you aren’t very fond of these, but needs must when the Devaronian drives.”, Korkie replied, holding up the blaster rifle that had belonged to the warrior Obi-Wan had knocked out.

“I suppose.”, Obi-Wan said, taking the blaster with a slightly dismayed expression. Blasters were so uncivilised, after all.

Uncivilised it might have been, but it proved intensely useful as three Death Watch soldiers attacked their position using their jetpacks. Obi-Wan nailed the middle one in the shoulder, bringing him down, but the other two continued to close. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the jetpack off the warrior he’d knocked out and hurled it at the two oncoming warriors. They split in mid-air to avoid it, but Obi-Wan hit it with a single well-placed blaster shot and the explosion took out both soldiers. As he stood up, blaster held warily, the one he’d shot down suddenly burst out of the smoke and tackled him, the blaster flying away. The soldier raised his own to gun the Jedi Master down, only for the weapon to be knocked out of his hands by a thrown dagger. The incensed warrior rounded on Korkie, who had thrown it, but this left him open to Obi-Wan who sent him flying a good two feet with a Force-enhanced kick before turning to Korkie.

“Thanks.”, he said. “Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?”

“The Protectors taught me well.”, Korkie replied. “They might be my bodyguards, but the ruler of Mandalore must know how to fight as well.”

“Indeed.”, Obi-Wan conceded.

But their distraction had allowed many more warriors to rally, more than they could hope to fight off. However, they did not attack but merely grouped around them, cutting off all avenues of escape. Then the crowd parted as one who could only be their leader strode through it, a cape over his right arm and shoulder and a golden shriek-hawk symbol on his helmet. As he got closer, Obi-Wan saw with a flash of shock and anger that the caped one had his lightsaber hanging on his belt; how dare he lay claim to a lightsaber! As the leader approached, he saw the warrior whom Obi-Wan had kicked away get unsteadily to his feet.

“Failure.”, he said coldly.

And shot him dead, a move that got an angry gasp out of Korkie. Halting before them, the leader motioned for his other soldiers to stay back and removed his helmet.

“G-Governor Vizsla?”, Korkie stammered in shock.

For it was indeed he, and markedly different from the mild-mannered and polite politician who met them on arrival. His face bore a sneer rather than a welcoming smile and his eyes burned with the hatred and disgust of a fanatic.

“For generations, my ancestors fought proudly as warriors against the Jedi.”, he said. “And now, that boy besmirches our name by consorting with them, like his weak-minded and weak-willed aunt did. Until I killed her.”

A cloud descended over Obi-Wan and Korkie, not quite registering that at first.

“Y-You were responsible for my aunt’s death?”, Korkie asked, going white in the face.

“I was, boy, and I do not regret it.”, Vizsla sneered in response. “She was weak, too weak to deserve to call herself a Mandalorian. Her death should have ushered us back into the glory of our past, but you elected to keep us weak, keep us stifled as pacifists! And you, Kenobi! You dare set foot on Mandalorian soil and strut about after the ruination you brought down upon us!”

Obi-Wan was presently boiling with an anger he hadn’t felt in years, not since Maul had driven his red blade through his Master’s stomach as he watched helplessly. But even the hatred and anger he’d felt then paled in comparison here, solidifying in a desire to rip Vizsla’s face off and slice him into tiny cubes with his lightsaber. But before he could give in, to call his lightsaber from that murderer’s belt to his own hand, Vizsla had unhooked it.

“Defend the boy, if you will, and let us see what you are made of!”, he said.

And he threw Obi-Wan’s lightsaber to him, but it never got there. The hand that stretched out to catch it belonged to Korkie, who fixed Vizsla with a calm yet livid glare that should have caused the man to burst into flames.

“Korkie?”, Obi-Wan asked, his anger vanishing to be replaced with shock and concern.

Korkie didn’t look at him, keeping that deadly gaze fixed on Vizsla.

“I do not need him to defend me.”, he said in a level voice that betrayed only a hint of the fury, rage and pain he had to be feeling. “You think you would make a better leader of Mandalore than me? Then prove it. Invoke the challenge.”

There was a stirring amongst the crowd of Death Watch soldiers, muttering and gasps and laughs. Even Vizsla looked taken-aback, if only for a moment.

“Are you aware of the gravity of what you’re doing, boy?”, he asked.

“I am.”, Korkie replied. “I am the Mand’alor. Take that title from me, if you dare.”

Vizsla’s surprise and hesitancy quickly vanished at that. Korkie placed Obi-Wan’s lightsaber on his own belt, insurance so that the Jedi Master would not be tempted to intervene in the one-on-one duel. 

“Hold on a second.”, Korkie said. “Let’s make this a true fight for the throne by letting my people witness it.”

He deployed a small holocam droid, which hovered over the area and sent a direct link back to Mandalore. The scene appeared on every screen on the planet, with thousands of citizens gathering to watch, fearful for their young duke’s life. Though they were honour-bound to acknowledge Vizsla’s claim if he won, many of them would not be happy about it and more than a few resolved to challenge him in turn if he won. Amis, terrified beyond belief, could only watch in fear as his love prepared to engage in a fight to the death.

“Be careful, cyar'ika.”, he said. “Come home to me.”

On Concordia, Vizsla threw off his cape to free his arms as Korkie drew his ceremonial sword and held it out in an opening stance to indicate he was ready for battle. The sword was a beskad, a traditional Mandalorian sword forged from beskar, the same near-indestructible alloy that was used in their armour. Vizsla smirked as he drew something from a sheath on his back, looking at Obi-Wan.

“Are you a student of history, Jedi?”, he asked. “Then perhaps you’ll recognise this.”

He held up a metal hilt, of an angular design that was clearly Mandalorian in nature, and pressed a button. With a high-pitched, warbling screech, a plasma blade burst forth from the hilt. Obi-Wan could not suppress a gasp; it was a lightsaber, obviously, but like none he’d seen before. The blade was a bit shorter than average, as well as thinner and tapered to a point at the end like a traditional sword. But it was the colour of the blade that was most striking; black, black as deepest space, and with odd white tendrils of energy flickering along the length of the blade. A shimmering white aura surrounded it, making it resemble a black hole of sorts. Vizsla swung it around him, lazily, and the blade screeched as he did so.

“This lightsaber was stolen from your Jedi Temple, by my ancestors during the Fall of the Old Republic.”, he said. “It has been a symbol of our power for many centuries, and in that time it has seen the deaths of many Jedi upon its blade. After I’ve killed the boy, you can prepare yourself to join him and them in death.”

“Are you going to monologue all night or can we get on with this?”, Korkie snapped irritably.

Vizsla’s face snapped into an expression of irritation as well for having his dramatic moment ruined, but many watching on Mandalore laughed and even a few of the Death Watch nodded in approval; they were here to see a fight, after all.

“Very well, then.”, Vizsla said. “En garde!”

And he threw himself on Korkie, the black-bladed lightsaber slicing the air with a screech. Korkie raised his own sword and the blades met, one of metal and one of energy. Obi-Wan half-expected the latter to slice through the former, but beskar did not yield easily even to a lightsaber and even though the metal glowed red-hot where it met the lightsaber, it did not break. Korkie broke the lock and slashed at Vizsla, who dodged and retaliated with a slash of his own. Korkie parried, dodged, slashed, parried again; every movement was fluid and graceful and made Vizsla, surprisingly agile himself despite his full and bulky armour, seem plodding and slow like a happabore. Korkie’s face was a mask of concentration, with no move wasted, but Obi-Wan could not shake the worm of fear gnawing at his gut. He wanted to intervene so badly, yet for a reason he could not understand. Korkie dodged another slash and landed a kick to Vizsla’s gut that sent him staggering back, where some warriors steadied him from falling right over. Vizsla threw them off and charged Korkie, leaping into the air to deliver a heavy, two-handed swing. Korkie dodged and landed a kick to Vizsla’s sword arm that knocked the black-bladed lightsaber from his hand and sent it flying. Vizsla quickly countered with a series of brutal punches that knocked Korkie back, giving him the opportunity to recover his weapon. Activating his jetpack, Vizsla soared into the air to assault Korkie from above but the boy dodged the assault and threw his recovered dagger at Vizsla’s jetpack, causing it to malfunction and forcing Vizsla to quickly discard it before it took off into the sky and exploded. 

“That makes us a little bit more even, don’t you think?”, Korkie taunted.

Vizsla roared in anger and charged, the black blade carving wide arcs through the air. Korkie parried as best he could, but Vizsla was older and stronger and even skill can falter in the face of that. Korkie’s sword came up to parry an especially vicious blow and the momentum of it was enough to knock the metal sword from his hand and send it flying, too far away to recover it. Vizsla raised his weapon triumphantly to cut the boy down, but then Korkie did something very unexpected. Seconds before the black blade would have sliced through his body, it was met with a blade of sky-blue that flared into existence from the hilt of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, which had until then been hanging on Korkie’s belt unnoticed. The blades crackled and sparked at the point where they met and what looked like tendrils of electricity raced along the black one as Vizsla pressed his attack.

“Impressive.”, he sneered. “But having a lightsaber doesn’t mean you’ll win!”

“Funny.”, Korkie replied. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

Obi-Wan watched with renewed anxiety as the duel continued, increased anxiety because Korkie had no experience with a lightsaber and though neither of them could touch the Force, Vizsla had evidently practiced with his and that made a world of difference. He watched fearfully, expecting each moment to be the one where Korkie slipped up or misjudged his unfamiliar weapon and sliced himself in half with it. To his amazement and wonder, however, that did not happen. In fact, Korkie seemed to handle the lightsaber like he was born to it, no move being wasted or in error. It was almost like he had an………… affinity with the blade, the same kind that all Jedi had with their lightsabers. But then, did that mean…………….? As he pondered this, the duel began to wind down; Vizsla was tiring, as he had more heavy equipment on than Korkie, and his consistent aggression had sapped his strength.

“Impossible!”, he snarled. “I cannot lose to you!”

With one final bellow he charged at Korkie, their blades met…………… and Korkie swung his up in a motion that ripped the black one from Vizsla's hands and sent it high into the air. He followed this up with a powerful kick that knocked the man to the ground as his left hand reached up to catch Vizsla’s lightsaber as it descended back to earth. It landed in his outstretched palm and the black blade flared to life with a screech as Korkie brought both down to be held at Vizsla’s throat. Panting and forehead shining with sweat, he was victorious.

“You are beaten!”, he declared in a ringing voice. “Yield!”

He could not have known that on Mandalore, thousands were cheering and whooping in delight at his victory and Amis was fighting hard not to betray his true emotions, since he had to set an example to the stoic guards he commanded. Though they themselves were not so stoic, a few even jumping up and down in delight at Korkie’s victory. Obi-Wan himself had to fight not to burst out whooping as well. Vizsla, face burning with rage and humiliation, faced him down.

“I’ll never yield to you, boy!”, he spat. “Kill me and be done with it!”

Something blazed in Korkie’s eyes for a second and the humming black and blue blades moved an inch closer to Vizsla’s throat, but then they were pulled back.

“No.”, Korkie said. “To kill you would just make me like you, and it wouldn’t bring my aunt back either. To kill someone just because you can is not strength.”

“Then you are a coward!”, Vizsla spat disdainfully.

“A coward, am I?”, Korkie retorted, the black blade spitting electrical sparks in response to his anger. “I came here seeking answers about Death Watch, found them and accepted a challenge to the throne from their leader, whilst you hid here and resorted to bombing a civilian monument to get my attention instead of coming to Mandalore and challenging my claim legitimately. So tell me, who is the true coward?”

Vizsla had no answer, and a few of the Death Watch soldiers exchanged glances and muttered sentences. Then a few of them stepped forwards, walked up to Korkie and knelt down in front of him.

“Mand’alor.”, one said.

“Mand’alor.”, echoed the rest.

Vizsla and a number of others let out low hisses, but Korkie nodded graciously.

“Rise.”, he said. “And be welcomed home.”

A dozen soldiers had stepped away from the Death Watch ranks, but that still left a large number. Vizsla staggered upright.

“So if you won’t finish me, what will you do?”, he asked.

“Well, for starters, I will claim this.”, Korkie replied.

He held up the black-bladed lightsaber and Vizsla’s eyes widened.

“You cannot!”, he said. “That weapon belongs to my family!”

“I can, because it is also the traditional weapon of the Mand’alor.”, Korkie replied. “By right of honour and conquest, it is mine.”

Vizsla could not argue; the same codes he extolled had turned against him.

“As to your fate, I will be merciful.”, Korkie continued. “I will permit you to keep your amour and equipment, nor will I strip you of your clan name and heritage, but your sentence will be exile. I banish you from Mandalorian space and forbid you to ever return. Break these terms, and the sentence will be death.”

Korkie’s sentence was indeed merciful, for being stripped of their heritage would be the ultimate disgrace and dishonour. Here they were being permitted to remain Mandalorians, even in exile, and they had no choice but to obey the strictures of the code for single combat. They slunk aboard their transports, grumbling and cursing, Vizsla limping up the boarding ramp last of all. Once all the Death Watch transports had departed, Korkie turned to Obi-Wan.

“I suppose this belongs to you.”, he said, handing over the Jedi Master’s lightsaber. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“You didn’t give me a choice, but that turned out to be a good thing.”, Obi-Wan replied. “You handled it well, so I have faith in your ability to handle……….. that one.”

He nodded meaningfully towards the black one in Korkie’s hand.

“Oh, this? This is the Darksaber.”, Korkie said. “I’m surprised you’re not familiar with its history, considering it was a Jedi who made it.”

“Is that so?”, Obi-Wan asked, inspecting the Darksaber closely. “Which one?”

“Tarre Vizsla.”, Korkie replied.

“A relation to the Vizsla you just fought?”, Obi-Wan asked in surprise. 

“Yes.”, Korkie replied. “Tarre Vizsla was the first of our people to be inducted into the Jedi Order, over a thousand years ago, and was a revered, respected and highly adulated figure by both. He helped forge a long-lasting peace between the Jedi and Mandalore, helped in part by becoming the Mand’alor himself and uniting the clans like no one had ever managed to do before. This was his weapon, forged from beskar and with a uniquely attuned crystal at its core. Mandalorian and Jedi, inextricably mixed.”

“True, I suppose, from a certain point of view.”, Obi-Wan remarked wryly, before handing the weapon back. “Lightsabers normally belong to the Jedi, but this one is an exception, I think. And……… it suits you.”

Korkie nodded in thanks before turning to regard the twelve Death Watch soldiers who had knelt before him. They did so again now.

“Mand’alor, we are yours.”, one said. “You have proven worthy of your claim. Command us.”

“Rise.”, Korkie said. “I know you to be the type who are eager to fight, and I stand by my decision to keep us from joining the Clone Wars. However, we are always looking for more combat instructors to teach the next generation, a worthy role for such warriors as yourself to pass on your wisdom and skill to the children of Mandalore. Do you accept?”

“We do.”, the soldier said. “Heh. Training the new meat to fight, as is the old way. I can find glory in that.”

“Bet mine will be stronger than yours.”, challenged one of his fellows.

“Oh? You willing to make that a real wager?”, the first one replied.

Korkie chuckled lightly as they began to bicker amongst each other, though in a friendly manner, before turning back to Obi-Wan.

“I suppose we should return to Mandalore.”, he said. “I must see to the Memorial Shrine, as well as find a new governor for Concordia. And then I have to prepare for the journey to Coruscant so I can plead our case for neutrality to the Senate.”

He said it all in a tone of confidence, but also quiet and tired resignation and Obi-Wan felt a surge of sympathy at so much being placed on such young shoulders. But he bore the burden because it was his duty to his people; Obi-Wan knew all too well the great burden of duty, being a Jedi after all. His whole life was given up in service to something bigger and greater than himself, with no room for anything personal. He had accepted it by and large because he knew no other life, but sometimes he did wonder about leaving the Jedi Order and finding something else simply for the sake of experiencing life as something other than a Jedi. There had been one time, in his youth, where he would have left the Order without question for a person who only needed to ask, but she did not and so he remained with the Jedi. Even now he wasn’t quite sure if it was the right choice, but he stood by it because a Jedi did not dwell in the past for it could not be changed. 

“Will you be returning to Coruscant immediately?”, Korkie asked. “Since we have just rooted out the Death Watch.”

“I’m not quite sure.”, Obi-Wan replied. “I will need to speak with the Jedi Council on this matter.”

“Of course.”, Korkie said. “Let me know if you have anything to report.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride off, the Darksaber now resting on his belt as comfortably as the beskad sword and kal dagger had done. The ease with which it hung there, combined with the same ease with which Korkie had handled Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, made Obi-Wan marvel at this extraordinary youth. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Korkie was Force-sensitive. But that would be impossible to verify without testing his blood for midi-chlorians, and he was unwilling to betray Korkie’s hospitality with such a violation of privacy. Yet it was something the Jedi Council ought to know, and they would probably want such a test to occur. Duty was, to use the common vernacular the clones were so fond of, a karking bitch. 

======================================================================================================

The return journey to Mandalore was quite smooth, but Obi-Wan was not expecting to be greeted by what seemed like the entire population of Sundari screaming and cheering Korkie’s arrival. The young duke took it in stride, however, waving and smiling and even bringing out the Darksaber and going on about some of its history to some excited children. When they finally got back to the palace Korkie had been immediately tackled by Amis, who wrapped his arms tightly around him and kissed him passionately before angrily remonstrating him for “getting into a duel to the death and worrying the kriffing hell out of him”. The scene had made Obi-Wan smile fondly, and also slightly wistfully because he would never experience that. Well, maybe from Anakin but not in a romantic sense. Taking advantage of the hubbub to slip away, he found an isolated room and made a call to the Jedi Council. They were most disturbed to hear about Death Watch and Pre Vizsla, to say the least.

“Troubling, is the resurgence of such Mandalorians.”, Master Yoda remarked. “If join Dooku and the Separatists, they do, grave danger to our troops and Jedi in the field will there be.”

“And Duke Kryze’s only option was to exile them?”, Master Windu asked.

“No, Master.”, Obi-Wan replied. “He did have the option to execute them all, but he is not that kind of person. Their lives will be forfeited if they return to Mandalorian space, however.”

“If they are clever, they will take this second chance they have been afforded and make something good of it.”, Master Plo Koon commented. “If not……….."

A heavy silence hung over the Council for a while.

“So, what is Duke Kryze’s next move?”, Master Windu asked. 

“After he has smoothed things out here, he will travel to Coruscant to reassert his neutral stance to the Senate and assure them that Mandalore will not side with or against the Republic.”

“They may not receive that well, or believe it.”, Master Tiin noted.

“Nevertheless, they will hear it.”, Obi-Wan replied. “The duke has…….. a way with words.”

There was some idle conversation for a while, then Obi-Wan brought the conversation back to the subject of Korkie.

“In defeating Vizsla, Duke Kryze has obtained an ancient symbol of Mandalorian power.”, he said. “The Darksaber.”

A ripple went through the Council at that and some of the more learned members, most notably Kit Fisto and Shaak Ti, looked torn between apprehension, amazement and curiosity.

“The fabled weapon of the Jedi Tarre Vizsla?”, Master Fisto asked. “Truly?”

“Yes, so far as I can tell.”, Obi-Wan replied. “The weapon is clearly a Jedi lightsaber, but bears unmistakable Mandalorian influences in its design. And the blade is black, like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Black is a colour of justice in some cultures.”, Shaak Ti remarked. 

“Hmmm, yes.”, Master Yoda chimed in. “A man of honour, integrity and commitment to justice, was Tarre Vizsla. A great man, he was, and revered by both Jedi and Mandalorians. When passed on he did, the weapon he used was interred here in the Temple until stolen it was, during the Sacking of Coruscant.”

“Then surely it should be returned.”, Master Mundi opined. “A lightsaber is a Jedi weapon, and this child cannot hope to wield it without the powers of the Force.”

Obi-Wan let out an awkward little cough, drawing some stares.

“About that.”, he said. “The Darksaber is traditionally the symbol of rulership of Mandalore, dating back to Tarre Vizsla’s time. It will not be parted easily from them, because it is forged of both Jedi and Mandalorian. And leaving that aside, there is something else about the boy I have yet to tell you.”

“Divulge then, Obi-Wan.”, Master Windu replied, leaning back in his chair.

“I suspect Korkie - Duke Kryze - is Force-sensitive.”, Obi-Wan said.

That had the most marked reaction from the Council yet. Eeth Koth recovered first.

“Y-You have proof of this, Master Kenobi?”, he asked in his soft, soothing accent.

“Nothing definitive, Master Koth.”, Obi-Wan replied. “But I have a suspicion, and some possible evidence.”

He played them a hologram of the duel between Korkie and Vizsla, watching as they observed the boy’s every move and taking in their startled reactions when he began using Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. When it was over nobody spoke for a while, mulling over what they had just seen.

“He………… does seem to handle a lightsaber well.”, Adi Gallia said. “Certainly with the same comfort and ease as any Jedi.”

“And his reactions are comparable with one who can touch the Force.”, Depa Billaba chimed in.

“His calm focus as well.”, Oppo Rancisis said, stroking his long beard contemplatively. “As though he were immersed in the Force.”

Nobody said anything more for a while, then all heads turned to Master Yoda.

“Hmm, a curious new development this is.”, he said. “Verify properly, young Duke Kryze’s sensitivity to the Force, we must.”

“Obi-Wan, can you get a blood sample from him?”, Master Windu asked.

“Possibly, but I fear that might be a violation of hospitality and trust.”, Obi-Wan replied. “More to the point, I do not have any concrete reason to ask and doing so might ignite a major incident. Duke Kryze is well-loved by his people and they might not take kindly to this.”

“Hm, I see.”, Master Windu said. “In that case, stick close to the Duke and see if you can find out conclusively if he is Force-sensitive.”

“I was planning to accompany him back to Coruscant.”, Obi-Wan replied.

“Good.”, Master Windu said. “We’ll send some clones and Senate Commandos to provide some additional security for the journey.”

That was a surprise.

“Is that necessary, Master Windu?”, Obi-Wan asked.

“Just a precaution.”, Master Windu replied. “If Death Watch does indeed have ties to the Separatists and they report Duke Kryze’s duel to Count Dooku…………”

“He might work it out and mark Korkie as a target for capture or assassination.”, Obi-Wan finished. 

“Precisely.”, Master Windu remarked. “For now, stick close to him and keep an eye on him. I sense something strange about this whole situation with the Duke.”

“As do I, Master.”, Obi-Wan replied. “I shall report back if I learn anything.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi.”, Yoda said.

And the Council signed off. Obi-Wan was left along, contemplating. If Korkie truly was Force-sensitive, what would that mean? He was too old to be trained as a Jedi, this much was certain, but he would clearly be aware of his abilities if he had them and had made use of them. This could pose a risk of him being vulnerable to the dark side, which could not be ignored as per usual with the younger ones because Force abilities waned and atrophied if the user was not aware of them or did not train to strengthen them. It was a tricky situation, indeed, and one he might not be able to solve on his own. But he would just have to wait and see what the future brought, as always.

======================================================================================================

**Author's Note:**

> So, Korkie differs from Satine in that he is willing to fight if necessary and recognises the virtues of maintaining martial traditions in a dangerous galaxy at war. Even if one prefers not to fight, it never hurts to be prepared. His rule is still opposed by the fanatics who just want to go back to conquering worlds and pushing people about and murdering Jedi for glory, but he's both able and willing to defend his claim and right to rule Mandalore. And he sends Pre Vizsla and his dogs running with their tails between their legs, whilst he holds the Darksaber which only further cements his claim. But what does his affinity for the weapon indicate, and his instant comfort in wielding Obi-Wan's lightsaber? Is he Force-sensitive or not? And are his troubles over?
> 
> Amis being Korkie's lover was something I idly thought of. Him being a part of Clan Saxon will be an important part later on in the series, since it will show that not all clans are united or the same, with some producing less-than-stellar examples to be ashamed of. 
> 
> A lot of Korkie's observations and opinions are based on my own. I'm a pacifist in real life, but I'm also savvy enough to realise that there are times when one must fight and it is best to know how to and be willing to rather than be caught flat-footed.


End file.
